


Learning To Share

by Clippedwings



Category: Legion (TV)
Genre: F/F, Masturbation, Sharing a Body, brief drug use mention, but no actual drug use, not quite a spite fuck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2018-12-16
Packaged: 2019-09-19 21:31:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,893
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17009589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Clippedwings/pseuds/Clippedwings
Summary: Lenny's free once more, but not entirely alone. Amy's trapped again, but hasn't entirely given up control. It'll take some getting used to for the both of them.





	Learning To Share

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hexiva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hexiva/gifts).



> For Hex, from the prompt: Lenny and Amy must learn to live together in one body. Confusion and sexual tension ensue.

The curtains drawn over the single window of the motel room don’t fully block out the bright neon glow of the sign outside. The walls are thin enough to hear the muffled hum of the tv in one neighboring room and the rattle of pipes as someone above gets ready for a shower. It’s cheap as fuck and would probably light up like a Christmas tree if anyone took a black light to it, but all told it’s not the worst place Lenny Busker has found herself. Especially within recent years.   
  
In her den, Lenny had been king, and that had been a hellhole comparable to this one. Worse, even, but there’s no way in hell that people haven’t used this place for the exact same purposes. There’s bound to be people smoking something, or shooting something up in one of these dingy little rooms. If the soft grunts and the creaking of a motel bed Lenny can just barely hear over that indistinct murmur of the late night news is what she thinks it is, that’s just another thing these places have in common.    
  
God she hopes it’s what she thinks it is.   
  
Clockworks was a different kind of hellhole. She had a private room - a necessity really - but even before she’d been afforded that small luxury, she’d never let the company stop her. She could tune out the nightly crying. The footsteps of the staff walking up and down the hallways. What better way to fight the silence so stifling it made her want to scream than to make her own noise? Sometimes she even tried to make herself scream for the hell of it.   
  
Long fingers wet with her own saliva slide over sensitive skin; exploring and working herself up.    
  
Trapped with the Shadow King hadn’t been a hellhole, it was just Hell. She wasn’t herself there. She couldn’t be. She was a puppet. A toy. A mask for him to wear whenever he liked. And then she was free. Thank fuck, she was free! Maybe she wasn’t fully herself anymore, but she wasn’t going to question it.    
  
The unoccupied hand slides over her stomach, up to a breast. Tweaks a nipple to try to coax more of a response out of a body she’s still not fully familiar with.   
  
Division 3 didn’t give her much opportunity to explore. Her head was spinning, and she’d just been set loose from one hell where she’d had no privacy. She hadn’t wanted to perform in another. Once she was free, though? Well and truly free, her mission completed, in the wind once more. Then it was time for a little exploration.   
  
“You’re doing it wrong.”   
  
Well, maybe not completely free. She’d spent so long as a ghost trapped in someone else’s head, and now she had one of her own.   
  
“My body,” she snaps back, squeezing blue eyes shut so she won’t catch sight of Amy as she continues. No room for shame here.   
  
“It was mine first,” Amy points out, in that obnoxiously patient way she has.   
  
“Mine now!” She doesn’t need to raise her voice, especially as she’s relatively sure that she’s the only one who can actually hear Amy, but she does it anyway. When it’s not immediately responded to, Lenny gives a frustrated huff, drops her hands, and props herself up on an elbow to glare over at the single chair in the room. Amy, perched on the very edge, meets and holds her own gaze.   
  
“Fuck! Can’t you, I dunno, go somewhere else? Look away? Find your happy place?” Lenny asks. Usually she wouldn’t let an audience like this bother her, but something about the fact that she’s sharing this body has the mood fading fast. It’s edging into something tense and uncomfortable that Lenny’s not ready to try to deal with yet.    
  
~~ It makes her feel like Farouk, parading about in a stolen skin. ~~   
  
“I did,” Amy answers. “The first three times.” Standing up, she takes the step to move to the bed and settles herself there instead. A little too close for Lenny to be comfortable, made obvious by the way she tenses. Withdraws her hand from between her legs to rest on her hip instead. Unwilling to continue until she knows what Amy’s doing, but equally unwilling to give up much of any ground.   
  
There are a few beats of tense silence between them before Lenny speaks again, those blue eyes raking down Amy’s figure before darting back up to her face as she does. “So, uh, can you feel it? When I fuck myself? I bet you like it.” She’s fishing for a reaction. Trying to find some button to press so she can feel like she’s in control again. Amy’s nothing but a ghost. Like the faded image of a recorded over VHS bleeding through, she’s just a remnant.    
  
Amy doesn’t give the reaction that she’s looking for. Still calm and patient, acting like nothing Lenny can do can bother her. They’ve both been through their own hells, and Amy’s had far longer to perfect her mask. Sharing a body is the last thing she would have ever thought would happen to her, but then, she‘s been through so much that she would have never imagined. She’s just a passenger in her own body, but at least she can make herself known. Can try to find some kind of control.   
  
“I can,” she says with a single nod. “But I wouldn’t say I like it. Like I said, you’re doing it wrong. I suppose it works if you’re trying to see how fast you can get off but-“   
  
“That’s the goal!”   
  
A muffled voice comes through the wall, accompanied the the thump of a fist. “Shut up!” Lenny’s yelling evidently hasn’t been going unnoticed.    
  
“But,” Amy continues, ignoring both interruptions, “it’s not  _ satisfying _ . The least you could do is try.”   
  


“Oh, I’m  _ so _ sorry,” Lenny retorts, sarcasm dripping from her words. “What, you just came out to criticize? So helpful. Tell you what. You wanna help? Help. Otherwise, piss off!”    
  
She was expecting that to be the end of it. Another argument with David’s prissy bitch of a sister, another couple hours of peace once she yelled her away. She wasn’t expecting the appraising look she received or the featherlight brush of knuckles over the outside of her thigh. She certainly wasn’t expecting the way that touch had goosebumps rising in its wake.   
  
What could she say? Amy knew how to touch this body. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise, and yet it did.   
  
One hand settles on Lenny’s thigh, coaxing her legs further open to grant better access. There’s a whisper of encouragement to bring her own hand back between her legs. To follow the soft, guiding touches and learn the way her new body liked to be touched. Long strokes along either side of her clit rather than direct pressure. A finger teasing her entrance rather than shoving right in once she was wet enough. Everything Amy wanted seemed to circle around patience.   
  
“I didn’t tell you to do that,” Amy says when Lenny reaches up to grope her own breast, her tone a warning. It’s a pleasant surprise for Lenny that patience isn’t all Amy wants. Patience is hard, play is easier.    
  
Knowing it’s play helps ease Lenny into it a bit more. Lets her relax into it and know the control isn’t really being taken away again. And maybe she whines and complains each time Amy works her up to the edge and has her stop, but she doesn’t push past what she’s told. This? The two of them? This is fun like she hasn’t had in ages. No reverence, forced or otherwise. Nothing to dull her senses. And from the way Amy trembles and her instructions begin to be interrupted with her own soft gasps, she seems to be enjoying it just as much.   
  
Each edge gets harder and harder to back down from until they fall past it together. It’s intense, toe-curling, exhausting. There’s another shout to shut up from the other room, and before she allows blissful sleep to claim her, Lenny allows herself a giggle thinking that maybe Amy was loud enough too that she wasn’t the only one who heard her.   


 

* * *

 

Lenny’s no stranger to one night stands. Really, that’s what it was. Built-up tension and frustration with each other reaching a head in a shitty motel bed. Normally she doesn’t have to worry about the morning after. She can slip away while her partner is still asleep. Leave them to deal with any mess left behind, not worry about anything like emotions coming into play. This isn’t a normal one night stand, though. There’s no slipping away from Amy.   
  
Thankfully, she’s not immediately noticeable when Lenny wakes up. She can go to the bathroom, take a shower in the little cubicle shower with shitty pressure and lukewarm water, pretend that nothing happened last night and this is her normal, shitty life. It’s ruined when she goes to rinse her mouth out in the sink. She catches sight of Amy in the mirror, and any chance she had of pretending that nothing had happened goes right out the window.   
  
“You should get some breakfast. Real breakfast, not just candy.”   
  
“I can eat what I want. My body,” Lenny retorts,   
  
Amy sighs and closes her eyes to avoid rolling them. “We’re back on this again? It’s my body, I know it. I think I proved that. And I know it needs actual food. Get dressed, I think I saw a diner down the road.”   
  
As much as Lenny hates to agree with her, a diner breakfast doesn’t sound half bad right now. So she drags her feet with getting dressed, but is still out the door soon enough, lured by the thought of cheap food.   
  
Amy was right. The diner’s right down the street, all silver and neon, the black and white linoleum just slightly sticky underfoot when Lenny walks in. She drops herself down onto one of the stools at the counter and gives herself a spin before Amy gets her attention by clearing her throat, gesturing to one of the plasticky booths.    
  
Lenny glances over at her, then closes her eyes and spins herself again. Her eyes only open again when the waitress comes over. Ignoring the judging look she knows she’s getting from Amy, she orders more than she knows she can eat. Amy wants her to eat “real food,” she can eat plenty. Bacon and eggs. Toast. Hash browns. Waffles with fruit topping and extra whipped cream. Coffee. Orange juice.    
  
Amy settles on the seat beside her and leans on the counter, staring at her with some look Lenny can’t make sense of. Annoyance, maybe. Something softer. Not quite affection. Or maybe it’s admiration that she’s used to. It makes her uncomfortable trying to piece it together, so she tries not to look.   
  
“So, where do we go from here?” Amy asks as Lenny’s plates of breakfast are set before her.    
  
Lenny pokes at her eggs a bit, thinking about that question. Where do they go from here? From something that isn’t quite a spite fuck. From letting herself be coaxed into eating an actual breakfast with her afterwards. Where does a path like that lead?   
  
“I don’t know.”


End file.
